


Rip and Tear

by FrostfireEzreal



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Violence, Feral My Unit | Byleth, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, M/M, Shipping content later in story, no beta we die like Glenn, rating may change later in story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25121290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostfireEzreal/pseuds/FrostfireEzreal
Summary: Suffering through the pain and agony of losing his father, Byleth's heart shatters and his mind snaps. After months of being used by the church he decided to break away. With the sanity he had left, he rallied his father's mercenaries under his banner and cut his own path- all while leaving carnage in his wake.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 11
Kudos: 54





	1. Break

**Author's Note:**

> So this was a project I worked on awhile ago and recently re-visited. I think I'll make this into a multi-chapter story but I'll have to finish some other fics first. We'll see!
> 
> Thank you to jfcrivaille for throwing this idea out there awhile ago.

It was over. Byleth sighed in relief, panting slightly as the fatigue from the battle before caught up to him. He stood beside his father offering him a small nod as the other hopped off his horse. The two began to survey the ruins, looking for anything that could give them a clue as to what those beasts had been doing so close to the monastery.

Jeralt frowned. “There isn’t a trace of evidence to be found in the chapel. This must have something to do with Remire. Perhaps-” Before he could finish, the cry of a young girl echoed throughout the space.

“Wait!”

Byleth looked to Jeralt before glancing over to the girl. Red hair, pale face… Was that not Monica?

“Huh? Another student?” Jeralt mumbled.

The young redhead approached them, Jeralt stepping forward to inquire her whereabouts further. Byleth took the time to survey the area from where he stood, glancing about the desolate ruins. He felt no other foreign presence and no sight of any other beasts showing up.

Dimitri came to his side along with Dedue, asking if there was anything else he and the rest of the Blue Lions could do. Byleth only shook his head, a soft smile gracing his features. By the time he tuned back into the conversation it was already wrapping up.

“Run along now.” Jeralt said, cracking a smile upon seeing her begin to skip away. Such an innocent young lady she seemed to be.

“Thanks for all your help, sir!”

Jeralt hummed, his gaze finding its way back to his son only a few yards away. Before he could say anything his eyes lit up with a pained expression, the sound of a blade digging through his flesh ringing through his ears.

Byleth’s eyes widened, his face twisting in disbelief and agony.

‘ _No… No!’_

“You’re just a pathetic old man.” Monica smirked watching as Jeralt fell to his knees, unsheathing the blade from his back as he did so. “How dare you get in the way of my brilliant plan, you dog.”

_“NO”’_

Byleth shuddered, turning back the hands of time. His mind screamed and his stomach churned as he was pulled moments back. He gasped outwardly, sweat beginning to form along his brow. His gaze quickly found Monica who was skipping away, and he quickly whipped his blade towards her.

A sudden flash of purple light blinded him for a moment, but his eyes shot open upon feeling his blade deflected and hearing the familiar sound of steel piercing skin. An unfamiliar figure stood before Monica, uttering a few words to her that Byleth could not hear, before grabbing her and vanishing.

He saw red, he clenched his fist.

 _“AGAIN!”_ He screamed and the world around him spun, sending him back to the moment before the slaughter.

He ran forward this time, slashing his sword at the girl. He wanted to see her bleed- wanted to wipe that devilish grin right off her face. Yet the strange man appeared once more and parried his attack with dark magic.

Byleth yelled, “PISS OFF-!” But his body froze upon hearing the pained groans of his father yet again. The figure quickly grabbed Monica before disappearing, Jeralt falling to his knees for the third time that day.

“ _NO!_ ” Byleth let out a strangled cry, “ _Again_! Bring me back again!”

“Are you crazy!?” The sound of a young girl’s voice cut through his clouded mind. “You have already reached your limit! If you turn back the hands of time anymore your body and mind will suffer!”

“I don’t care! Send me back!” He hissed; his eyes strained on his father’s limp body.

The world distorted again and he was brought back to the beginning. However, it was a few seconds further in the future than the last time and his body felt heavy. A wretched bile built up in his throat that he coughed out, splattering onto the dirt. His hands shook violently as he wiped his mouth, his eyes widening even more as he saw Monica begin to skip away.

Without hesitation he bounded forward, the panic setting into his mind. His movements were quick but frantic. He brought up his sword yet didn’t strike until the shadowy man made an appearance. With all the strength he could muster, Byleth stepped around the man at the last second and slashed down towards Monica.

The girl looked over her shoulder, eyes widening as she saw the Professor appear behind her. The dark mage uttered an incantation under his breath, a protection ward forming before the girl to block Byleth’s attack.

“Do it!” The man commanded, using another spell to subdue the Professor. Dark spikes shot from the ground and pierced through the swordsman’s arms and legs.

Byleth writhed in pain as he saw Monica shove the blade into Jeralt. “ ** _NO_**!” He cried desperately, his voice hoarse, “Once more! Take me back _once more!_ ”

“I can’t!” Sothis’ voice sounded haggard, exhaustion evident in her tone. “I’m sorry but I can’t-!”

“Please!” He begged, his breathing becoming rigid and uneven. “Please I _can’t lose him!”_

The spikes dissipated once the man snatched Monica and vanished.

The professor dropped the sword of the creator to the ground with a thud and fell to the ground, holes where the magic pierced him spewing out a dark crimson. He clenched his teeth as he dragged himself over to his father, flipping him over to see his face.

Blood ran down the corners of Jeralt’s mouth, the frightened calls from the students filling the air around them.

“Sorry-” Jeralt choked out; Byleth’s eyes widened in fear. “It looks like… I’m going to have to leave you now…” His voice was beginning to trail off.

Byleth couldn’t stop the sobs that blurred his vision and streamed down his cheeks. Pearlescent tears falling from lavender orbs that rained down onto a pale surface.

“F-Father-” He stuttered.

Jeralt gave a small and pained smile, “To think that the first time I saw you cry… Your tears would be for me… It’s sad… And yet, I’m happy for it.”

_‘No, no, please- You’re stronger than this you can survive-’_

“Thank you, kid…”

_‘No-’_

Byleth paled when he felt Jeralt’s breathing stop. He watched as droplets began to rain down upon his father’s face, mixing in with his salted tears. His body sat there in shock as his heart took on a dull ache.

It rained harder, as if the heavens mourned the loss of his father. Byleth bit his lip- the heavens had no right to cry over him, for when had they ever helped them in their time of need? The Goddess was cruel- taking away his mother when he was young and then ripping his father from his life.

A voice shot into his head, pained and scared. “Byleth please, get ahold of yourself-”

“Send me back.” He interjected, but he didn’t need to see Sothis to hear her unease.

“In this state we cannot go back- your body is too weak and my magic-”

“I SAID TAKE ME BACK!” Byleth pleaded, holding his father close.

“If turning back the hands of time was not enough to save his life, then you must accept what came to pass was fate!”

Fate.

The word was brought up so often during his time at Garreg Mach that every time it was mentioned it only left a bad taste in his mouth. If this was the path “fate” carved out for him he wanted no part of it. He never wanted this- to become a vessel for some Goddess and used as a weapon by the Church. He wanted to travel Fodlan with his father- He just wanted to be with his father.

He grit his teeth.

“I never wanted this.” He wailed in pain, his heart cracking with every passing second. “I _don’t_ want this!”

“Byleth-”

“AND I WON’T BE YOUR DOG ANY LONGER!” He sobbed hysterically, holding Jeralt closer. The sword of the creator emitting a dull red glow beside him, his eyes darkened to a deeper hue. “I’ll block you out- you won’t be able to cage me _again_.”

 _“W-Wait-!”_ Sothis pleaded but he cut her out of his mind, ignoring any further pleas she attempted to make.

“I’m done with you- I’m done with the church. What good is this power if it cannot save _one man_?” He spat, his anger faltering for a moment as he bent down to press his foreheads against Jeralt’s. “Father… Come back…”

“P-Professor?”

A timid voice broke through his anger and he looked up to see Mercedes standing before him, her expression was mixed with concern and unease. “I-I’ve come to heal your wounds-”

Byleth glanced over her shoulder to see Seteth and Rhea entering the clearing, being led by a frantic Annette. Dimitri and Sylvain were quickly closing the distance between themselves and the professor. He gently placed his father back onto the grass, placing a chaste kiss upon his head before abruptly standing up.

Mercedes seemed startled by the action, and stepped away from him.

He looked behind her once more, giving Dimitri a remorseful look before turning his attention back to his father, and then to Mercedes.

“Please… Bury him with my mother.” He forced out before tearing his eyes away from Jeralt’s limp figure. He spun around on his heel and took up his sword, sprinting in the opposite direction.

“Professor!?” He heard Rhea call from afar, her voice laced with a comforting poison. He wanted to turn back yet his mind told him to run. Don’t look back because if he did, she would trap him there for good.

“Professor! Where do you think you’re going!?”

They kept calling after him, but he kept running. His eyes were red from crying, his body sore from the physical and emotional pain he was enduring, and his mind filled with violent thoughts.

He hurriedly climbed over the low walls that separated the church from the world, feeling a pain in his leg as he crashed down into the mud on the other side. His eyes were set on the forest ahead, running through the plains before disappearing into the brush. He slid past trees and burst through bushes, his clothes and wounds getting caught on several branches along the way; all while leaving a spotted trail of sanguine in his wake.

* * *

After hours of running, his body finally failed him and he crumpled onto the ground. He laid there; his face pressed into the soaked grass as he took in the events that happened earlier. His father was dead and he ran away. He pushed himself up wiping the grime from his face, the taste of iron on his tongue.

Byleth thought of Rhea- how she was so kind and open to him. Had she known this would happen? He had his suspicions about the Archbishop ever since he arrived and concluded that she must have been… Related to Sothis. For why would she be so obsessed with the goddess in the first place? It was more than just faith.

Slowly he began to smile and soon he was laughing. It was a low chuckle, but it increased in volume and intensity as time went on. Byleth clutched his head, pushing the bangs out of his eyes. They must have thought he was pursuing the culprits responsible for Jeralt’s death! Yes- that was the only plausible reason as to why they hadn’t found him yet. He continued to laugh hysterically until sobs got caught in his throat.

“Father…” He whispered.

His mind filled with the memories they shared- a bright summer afternoon where his father played with him amongst the flowers, a drizzly winter evening when they snuggled up to the fire. One memory in particular stuck out; Jeralt wrapping his arm in a bandage after a training accident. That day he held his hand so tenderly with that signature smile on his face. Jeralt’s eyes were filled with nothing but warmth and adoration. _Love_ for his only child.

Byleth’s heart finally shattered and his eyes glazed over. He felt no more pain, it was all just numb. He looked down to himself, finally noticing his blood-stained clothes and gaping wounds. His eye twitched, a strangled smirk forming. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t look too bad splattered in red…

“Byleth!” The call of his name caught his attention.

“Boss!” Another voice yelled.

The former professor stood from where he was hidden in the forest and looked out. Not too far from him was his and his father’s mercenary band. One of the seemed to spot him, as he alerted the other mercenaries before running over.

“Boss!” The man exclaimed, taking off and throwing his cloak over the soaked swordsman. “Boss, we gotta get out of here- that arch-bishop lady is goin’ crazy.”

Byleth raised a brow.

“Since you ran she’s been sending knights in and out of the monastery to look for you. She was screamin’ and hollerin’ about how if you weren’t found they’d face her wrath or somethin’. We were lucky to get out of there before everythin’ got bad.”

Byleth huffed in amusement, a dark look on his face.

Another mercenary came up to them with a horse trotting close behind. He held the reigns out to Byleth, who took them quickly. “Let’s go boss. We’ll find a place to rest, treat your wounds and then hunt down the bastards that killed Jeralt.”

Byleth looked at his hands. The blood had barely washed away even in this intense downpour. He then hopped onto the horse, signaling the rest of the group with familiar hand signs. They grouped up to him; he looked them over.

“Will you stay by my side?” He asked, though his tone was dead.

The mercenaries answered with a resounding “Yes!” All raising their weapons high.

“Even if we must side against the Knights of Seiros? Even if we must face any army that stands in our way? Can I trust you to help me cut a path?”

They answered with just as much confidence. “Jeralt never liked those Church dogs anyways!” One of them shouted.

“Good.” Was all he said before leading his horse ahead of the others. He knew they would support him no matter the decision- they had all been together since he was a child. They were practically family. And because they were so close, he knew they wanted this revenge just as much as he did.

“Let’s move.”


	2. Ascension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all I updated the tags and will continue to do so as the story progresses. Enjoy!

Byleth grinned as another body fell onto the stone, a loud crack emitting from the limp body as he stepped over it. He trudged towards Monica, or Kronya as she revealed herself to be, dragging the bloody sword of the creator behind him. His mercenaries were fighting off the assassins lackeys, leaving the main event for their boss.

The former professor, disheveled and lost in thought, stood only feet away from the other. His gaze snapped up to her, his whole-body twitching. Kronya recoiled at the sight, glaring at him in disgust. How ironic… Byleth then lunged forward with a growl, swinging his sword wildly. He managed to get a few slashes in, his eyes growing crazed as he watched her blood spill. He found himself laughing like a madman as she yelped in pain, calling out to her comrades for aid. However, they were all occupied with the mercenaries. Those who tried to get to the demon left themselves open for attack and were cut down instantly.

Noticing how limited her options were, Kronya threw a flurry of blades towards the former professor who dodged them effortlessly. But while he avoided those attacks the demon took that moment to escape. Byleth watched as she spun on her heel and began to run further into the forest. He smiled, finding it fun that he was able to indulge in such a chase. He would run her down and cut her open. Watch her squirm. Watch her _bleed_.

And so, he pursued on foot and sprinted after her. The entire way he was only a few steps behind. He relished in her labored pants, hearing the fear steadily rise in her voice. And soon they broke into another clearing, Kronya tripping over a raised root and fumbling onto a stone platform. She quickly regained her footing, brandishing her dagger.

“But how?” She asked voice shaking, “How could I really lose to a lowly creature like you!?”

Byleth raised his blade and was about to step forward when an elderly man appeared behind her. Different from the man who had aided her in killing his father but just as guilty. He felt his blood boil and be started to see red. But something was… Off. The mercenary stood his ground and watched as Solon walked up to Kronya and punched through her torso. His eyes widened; head spinning when he saw the blood splatter onto the ground. She groaned in pain- the sounds were music to his ears yet he felt no joy. No, he felt anger. That was his kill. He was the one who swore to rip off her head in revenge for killing Jeralt, _not_ this man.

Dark shadows emanated around them, darting towards Byleth and wrapping around his limbs. He growled thrashing around but to no avail. Kronya’s body fell limp, her last words asking for help. Byleth couldn’t help but spit, her words failing to provoke any form of sympathy. And then he was consumed by darkness and the world went black.

“You fool!”

Byleth awoke to the familiar voice, standing within the ancient chamber which he loathed. His eyes trailed up the stairs to the familiar throne, Sothis sitting upon it. He snarled upon meeting her gaze.

“You let your rage blind you and now we are both stuck within this endless void! You drown out my voice- my _warnings_ \- and you have the audacity to glare at me with hatred!?” The divine entity stood from her throne, her voice echoing off the stone walls. “As you and I are one, I too am trapped here! In time, our hearts and minds will cease to be. Is this what you wanted? To die a fruitless death!?”

Byleth stayed silent.

“I have regained my memories- I know who I am and what powers I hold. If you can clear your clouded mind for just a minute, I have a solution to get us out of this mess.” She seemed to calm down slightly, beginning to descend the stairs. “It would take a god to leave this place… But luckily for you, I am one.”

It was then that the mercenary gazed to her in disbelief. No that cannot be right- there is no way that would…

“I do not know how Rhea managed it, but she allowed me to exist inside you.”

He froze.

 _Rhea_.

“My name is Sothis. By now you must be well aware of what that means.”

Images of the archbishop’s gentle smile flooded his mind. His father’s warnings played on repeat- to never trust her. He found himself seething at the thought of her, a rising fury within his gut. Rhea did this. Rhea was the reason he was different. Why his mother passed. Why his father died.

“There is but one thing left to do to save us from this darkness of eternity. I must now use the power of a god.”

The rest of her words were lost to him as his mind slowly began to comprehend what was going on. It was all Rhea’s doing- for she manipulated the people with her lies and created a cult of followers around this false religion. But that didn’t matter to him- no. What mattered was that now he needed to see her blood spill. And although it would not bring his father back, it would give him closure. It would sew his broken heart back together.

Before he knew it, Sothis stood before him and reached out.

As if her words meant anything to him- as if he would just roll over and let her do as she pleased. The goddess had taken _everything_ from him. And now, he would take everything from _her_. In an instant he lunged forward, grabbing onto her arms before throwing her to the ground.

Her eyes were wide as she stared up to the swordsman. “What are you doing-!?”

One hand encircled her neck to pin her down and with a swift movement plunged his other through her chest.

“YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!”

A beating heart firmly within his grasp, the warmth of her blood smothering his hand. He began to squeeze, feeling the organ slowly give under the pressure.

“So, this- is what you want…?” She strained against him; her voice oddly calm in response to his violent behavior. “You are more lost than I initially thought.”

“I’M NOT YOUR DOG! I WON’T LET YOU IN!”

“Then take from me what you will.” She glared, unphased. “I pray you find someone to put down the beast within you. _Jeralt_ would not have wanted this.”

He heard the wet pop as her heart was finally crushed and saw as she went limp. Slowly her body dissipated into a golden dust which then blew towards him and entered his own.

He felt a dull ache in his head, and he screamed gripping his hair. An explosion of power erupted around him and he felt himself change but didn’t know in what way. The sword of the creator shone brightly. Unsheathing the blade, he began to slash wildly around the space. White rifts were cut through the plane and on the other side stood Solon.

Covered in fresh sanguine, Byleth tumbled through the rift and crashed into the ground back within the mortal plane. He stood menacingly, staring down to the dark mage with a murderous glint in his eyes.

He heard his band of mercenary’s holler in joy at the return of their boss, renewing their previously lost vigor. Byleth proceeded to make his way towards the elderly demon, his own heavy footfalls obscuring any other sounds. Black knights were summoned onto the field- he gutted every last one of them. Magical spells flew at him from multiple directions, some he evaded easily but others crashed into him and left bubbling patches of skin upon his body. He grit his teeth and pushed through the pain.

The former professor sprinted up the hill taking every life available to him, and when he came upon Solon he growled as he brough his blade down onto him. One slash. Two slashes. Three, four, five- he had lost count. But by the time he was finished there was nothing but an indecipherable pile of flesh.

He staggered back, drained of his stamina, and fell onto his knees.

“Boss!”

The distant calls of his band made him dizzy. He slowly looked at his hands, getting lost in the blood soaking through his gloves.

_Jeralt would not have wanted this._

“Byleth!”

Moments later he felt several hands on him; a pair wrapping a tattered cloak around his shoulders, another pair lifting him to his feet and another leading him away from the carnage. They were shouting things into his ears, yet he could not make out what they were saying. He picked up small phrases, something about the church, something about a dragon- it was all so muddled.

As he was hoist up onto a horse with another mercenary, he felt hot tears fall from his lavender orbs. His father’s killer was dead, so was another demon, but one still remained. He would deal with that Thales soon enough. But Rhea. _Rhea_. He also needed to deal with her and at the moment he wasn’t sure how. His men weren’t strong enough to contend against the Knights of Seiros just yet and he doubted any of the ruling houses would lend him any aid in murdering the archbishop.

He would have to do this alone.

Alone.

 _Alone_.

Save for Jeralt, he had always been alone. No friends, no lovers, only the warm embrace of his father to keep him sane. However, that was taken from him and he felt bitter.

More shouts from his band roused him from his trance just in time to see a rain of fire crash into the grass in front of them. The horses skid to a halt, frightened by the blast. Byleth watched as a few of his men were caught in the blaze, their harrowing screams ringing in his ears. He squirmed out of the mercenary’s grip and fumbled off the horse, running in the direction of his burning brothers in attempt to help them. But a pair of arms wrapped around him and pulled him back.

“They’re done for! Leave it we need to go!”

“No!” He screeched, reaching out towards his comrades, seeing how their voices died out and fell to the dirt. He was forced back onto his steed and redirected to a different part of the forest.

He glanced up as they rode, seeing a handful of wyvern riders flying around one central white dragon. Byleth screamed, his weapon glowing bright, but a sharp pain erupted through his system when the mercenary with him jabbed a pressure point.

He went slack, watching as the world around him burned and fading to nothing.

**. . .**

“Byleth, what are you doing?” Jeralt sat at Byleth’s bedside, pushing aside some stray hairs. He smiled so sweetly, his hand so calloused yet his touch so gentle. Byleth laid upon a bed in an unrecognizable inn, the soft morning sun streaming through the window.

“…Father?” Byleth croaked out, his eyes widening. “Is that… You?”

“Of course it is, who else would it be?” Jeralt chuckled, his soothing raspy voice brining tears to the young man’s eyes. He leaned down and placed a firm kiss onto his son’s temple, moving to tenderly hold his hand. “Now, what are you doing, child?”

“I’m… I’m avenging you.” He responded, “They took you away- they took _everything_ away.”

“Who did?”

Byleth sneered. “ _Rhea_.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Jeralt’s smile faltered and he sighed. “There is still so much you don’t know, Byleth. You mustn’t jump to conclusions.”

“But I _know_ it’s her.” He slowly sat up; his voice laced with desperation. “You said she couldn’t be trusted- Sothis said Rhea put her _inside_ me- _she_ is the reason for our suffering!”

“ _I wouldn’t want you to do that_.”

Byleth froze.

“What would you do, hm? Kill all who blindly follow Rhea? Would you end the lives of thousands of innocent civilians?”

“N-No! Never!” 

“Then what will you do?” Jeralt’s voice was firm, his gaze piercing through the young swordsman.

“I- I don’t know.” Byleth admitted, his voice no higher than a whisper. “I just want you back…” He felt the tears prick his eyes once more. A hand cupped his cheek, forcing him to look up to his father’s face.

“I will always be with you, Byleth. In your heart.” He poked the other’s chest. “But you need to wake up now. You’ve been asleep for way too long.” Jeralt stated.

“What? No! No, I don’t want you to leave!” Byleth begged, gripping the other’s arms. “Please, father! Stay!”

“I love you. Now wake up.”

“ ** _Father-!_** ”

Byleth’s eyes shot open as he abruptly sat up. He was panting, sweat dripping from his brow. He looked around for his father but no one else was in the room. Heartache started to set in- it was all a dream. He raised a hand up and clenched his heart. He took in his surroundings, staring in confusion at what he saw. A large room with well-decorated walls and lavish furniture. Royal blue silken sheets laid atop him and he was dressed in plain white sleepwear.

The jostling of a doorknob caught his attention, eyes trailing to the large mahogany doors at the other end of the room. The wood creaked loudly as it was pushed in, revealing a plainly dressed women holding some fabric in her arms. She was humming to herself but upon meeting his eyes she froze.

“Oh my gods you’re awake.” She said, still dumbfounded.

Byleth didn’t reply, his throat too dry to utter a sound.

She hesitated a moment before walking inside further. She placed the sheets down onto the side of his bed before looking between him and the door. “I- You- How are you feeling?”

He stared at her with a confused expression.

“I uhm… Please wait here while I go fetch the doctor.” She then turned to leave.

“…Where is my-” He coughed, straining to get the words out, “My… crew?”

She paused, looking over her shoulder. “They’re out working in town. B-But I will inform them that you’re awake when I get the doctor.” The woman then gave him a quick smile before rushing out of the room, not even closing the door behind her.

And so he sat there for a long time until a man he assumed was the doctor entered the room. He was an elderly gentleman who said no words, only checked his vitals and physical condition. He pulled up a wooden chair to the swordsman’s bedside and began his evaluation. It wasn’t until the awkward check up was over did he speak.

“Truly fascinating how a body can retain it’s physical condition even after sleeping for five years.”

Byleth looked to the elder in disbelief.

“Yes, you’ve been asleep for five years. I’ve been monitoring your condition since your little group arrived in Fhirdiad.” He hummed, seemingly amused by Byleth’s confusion. “The king will want to speak with you now that you’re awake. Much has happened in the world these past five years.”

The doctor then stood up, complaining about his bad back as he did so. But he didn’t leave. Instead he gazed to the other and sighed. “I’m no therapist, but I’ve heard of what happened to you all those years ago. While your physically fine, I recommend you stay confined in the capital until you’re mentally stable.”

The former professor would have retorted it he could, but he felt too exhausted to do so. After not using his body for five years, it seemed it had become quite taxing to do the smallest of tasks, let alone think. And so he only grunted, leaning back against the headboard and closing his eyes. He heard the other leave the room and he was alone once more.

The memories started to flow back to him; the feeling of blood splattering across his face as he tore open his foes, the look of fear on they held as they witnessed their final moments. He remembered Rhea’s smile, a smile which made him seethe in anger. He saw his family being burned alive with a dragon flying overhead. He remembered it all.

 _“Jeralt would not have wanted this.”_ Sothis’ voice echoed in his mind.

 _“I wouldn’t want you to do that.”_ His father’s voice cut through his foggy mind.

His quest for blood dampened upon replaying his father’s disappointed words. 

It was then a flurry of footsteps echoed down the hall, bursting into the bedroom; Byleth opened his eyes. Those who survived of his mercenary band stood in the doorway, their appearances changed only slightly after the long pass of time. One of them stepped forward, rushing to his bedside and enveloping him into a tight hug. One by one they all gathered around him, exchanging hugs and joyous laughter.

They lamented in their loss, praised the Kingdom for their understanding and hospitality, and expressed their happiness that their boss was finally awake. Their smiles were contagious, and soon he found the corners of his mouth curling upwards. Not the twisted smile he wore when he killed, but a genuine smile. This was all the family he had left… All that remained of his father and his legacy. He found it relaxing not to be blinded by hate for the time being.

They all talked for hours, catching him up with the current events of the world. His head spun as he tried to wrap his head around the war that engulfed all of Fodlan. The empire had waged war on the church, and by doing so made an enemy of both the kingdom and the alliance. Rhea had apparently gone mad after they disappeared into kingdom territory and returned to the monastery to wreak more havoc, causing a rift between the Church and the Kingdom. The Church and the Empire’s army, led by Edelgard, clashed at Garreg Mach while Claude and Dimitri (who was now the current Duke and King respectively) devised an escape plan to get all the students in the academy off monastery grounds and to safety.

The monastery was now destroyed and was rumored to be overrun by thieves, yet Byleth knew it was those from Abyss that were probably running the show there now. Rhea had been taken prisoner by the Empire and was being held in an unknown location. The Knights of Seiros traveled across Fodlan in search of her while the Kingdom and Alliance bound together to repel the Empire’s advances. Edelgard’s mission was simple: to eradicate the church and all its influence. And while Byleth would want nothing more than that, he was repulsed at the thought of dragging millions of innocent lives into it. He wanted to tear Rhea’s head from her shoulders, to cut down all who dared to stand in his way, but the teachings of his father stayed his hand.

Only kill those who needed to die. Protect the innocent.

He scoffed inwardly. He still planned on ripping Rhea to shreds, but it seemed that in order to do that he would need to find her first. And that meant fighting against the Empire to learn her location. Suddenly there was a million things he needed to do to get to one person. He sighed in frustration, even more tired than he was before.

The remainder of his family noticed his disposition and began to say their temporary goodbyes. They promised to visit everyday until the doctor said he was well enough to come live with them in the city. Apparently, they resided in one big home in return for fighting alongside the Kingdom’s armies and defending the capital from Empire raids. Byleth noted that he would have to thank the Kingdom for taking care of his men while he was indisposed.

After a few minutes of farewells, the mercenaries filed out of the room and left him to his thoughts. The sun had started to dip in the sky; its light emitting a more orange hue that blanketed the room. He looked down to his hands- had he gotten paler? And in the periphery of his vision he noticed how much lighter his hair had gotten. He hadn’t even noticed… He was too blinded by his rage back then.

Byleth sighed. As he thought about what he had done, he realized just how foolish he had been. His anger was justified, but the pain he put his family through was horrifying. Forcing them to fight with him against both those demons and the church- watching as they were burned to ashes. He would make it up to them. He would get his revenge… But now he was tired. He felt his eyes grow heavy, all that talking taking a toll on him.

But any hopes of sleep were dashed when he heard a knock on his door. His eyes fluttered open when another figure entered the room. A blonde man walked in, tall with broad shoulders, sporting a black eyepatch over his eye; his hair half tied up in a ponytail. Byleth didn’t even recognize him at first, but when he saw those ocean colored eyes he knew who it was.

“Professor.” The royal smiled.

“…Dimitri.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you.” The blonde continued, closing the gap between them. “I know you had many visitors today but… I still wished to see you. Please forgive my selfishness.”

There was something off about the way Dimitri looked at him. His gaze was soft and filled with what could only be described as adoration. But that couldn’t be right. Yes, he was the other’s former professor, but he left Dimitri and the Blue Lions so suddenly and then went on a rampage. There was no way they would ever look at him the same again. And yet here the king stood, looking at him like he was the most special person in the world.

It took him a few moments to respond. “It’s fine…” He uttered, averting his gaze.

However, his eyes trailed back to the other when he felt a dip in the bed. Dimitri had sat next to him, eyes searching for something. He watched as the other reached forward and took his hands into his own.

“Your eyes have changed since that day.” Dimitri began, his gentle smile taking on a sadder look. “When you looked back to me your eyes were filled with sorrow. Now they are… Empty. But at the same time, they are alight with rage.” His thumb caressed the back of Byleth’s hand. “I only wish for them to be filled with happiness once more.”

“…I may have changed, but you haven’t changed at all.” Byleth relaxed.

Dimitri chuckled, “You think so?”

The swordsman nodded.

It was then that Dimitri leaned forward and enveloped him into a warm embrace. Byleth sat still, unsure of what to do until deciding to pat the others back.

“After we escaped back to Fhirdiad, your mercenaries arrived at the palace. Seeing you unconscious and covered in blood- I feared the worst.” He shuddered. “…And you wouldn’t wake up. I didn’t know what to do.”

Byleth felt his already fractured heart throb. Why would it have mattered if he never woke up? A part of him wished he didn’t regain consciousness. At least in his dreams, he could see his father.

“Your majesty.” A deep voice came from the doorway.

Dimitri pulled away hesitantly, looking toward the intruder. He relaxed upon seeing Dedue standing there.

“Professor.” Dedue greeted before turning his attention back to Dimitri. “Duke Fraldarius has arrived and requests an audience with you.”

“Right. I’ll meet with him at once.” The king sighed, turning back towards his former professor. “Get some rest, Byleth. I will be back by the time you awaken.” And with that Dimitri got to his feet and headed towards the door, exiting the room with Dedue in tow.

Byleth felt his eyelids grow heavy again, his head swelling with information. Five years had passed in the blink of an eye and he wasn’t conscious for any of it. Now the continent was at war and it seemed being allied with the Kingdom was to be his fate. Not that he minded. His father hailed from the Kingdom, as did a good chunk of his mercenaries so he was technically fighting for him home. A home he never really lived in himself.

Shaking any remaining thoughts from his head, Byleth laid back down snuggling into the feathery pillows and soft silk. He prayed that a dream would come to him as he slept, and he prayed his father would be there waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was basically "what if Rhea went ape shit before the time she goes ape shit in the game?" It would save Dimitri from going insane cuz he never found out all the info that made him go feral, also seeing Byleth go feral kinda made Dimitri go "oh...oh that aint it chief"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks guys :)) Let me know what you think!


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